One-Hundred One-Shots
by Allthequirkythings
Summary: A series of one-shots between members of the Gotei 13, humans, Hollows, and Quincies, ranging from silly to dramatic, prose to poem, five hundred to five thousand words. Story two: Sometimes Letting Someone Go Because You Love Them is Just Called Losing Them. Starring Matsumoto Rangiku and Ichimaru Gin. Summary: a Winter War, burning bridges, time slipping, they grew up together.
1. Excrement Wars

**So...I was looking for something as a sort of "break writing" episode. I saw this on someone else's story idea, and I will commit myself to...THE ONE-HUNDRED ONE-SHOTS CHALLENGE!**

**BUMBUMBUMMM!**

**I hope you will enjoy. Each one-shot will range from silly to dramatic, prose to poem, five hundred to five thousand words.**

**Comment if I should continue, and who you'd like to read about next!**

_To kick-off..._

* * *

1. Sometimes Dressing Up As a Teen Wolf is the Only Way You Can Get Some Amanatto Around Here

Hitsugaya Toshirou and Hinamori Momo

* * *

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"_Yes_."

"Are you sure?"

"_Hinamori!_"

"_Shiro-chan_!" Momo tugged incessantly on the sleeve of his sleeve. "Everyone's going, and I don't want to be alone!"

Hitsugaya had that irritating twitch at his temple again. He would really have to see a specialist about it. A twitch specialist. He'd started seriously considering it.

"Don't call me Shiro-chan! And if everyone's going, drag someone else with you," he huffed, pushing her hands away and picking up his writing utensil again. Between training and his captain's responsibilities, Hitsugaya could not schedule relaxation in his packed schedule...if a gaudy party could be _called _relaxation. Right now, these mounds of paperwork weren't going to file themselves, what with that no-good Matsumoto at the party already...

_...and what was the big deal with it, anyway?_ Toshirou thought in aggravation. It was stupid Halloween- a useless holiday, really. Mortals held it in high regard as a festival for the dead. Like Pluses and Hollows honestly gave half-a-dingbat about their descendents partying in weird costumes. But every once in a while, a Jibakurei would become overly attached to one place, and the humans would be over-dramatic and go and call that abandoned house "haunted," only further fueling their overactive imaginations.

"Aw, Shiro-chan," Hinamori continued, unperturbed by his cold shoulder. "It's captains mandatory! Plus, you told me you'd to anything for amanatto!"

"T-that's irrelevant!" he sputtered, face reddening. "Captain Commander can't possibly be attending this stupid thing himself. Besides, we were children when I told you that."

"We're _still _children," Momo pointed out, putting her hands on his hips. It was evident that she was immensely proud of herself.

Hinamori was already in costume, dressed as some sort of Real World fairytale. Her uniform was exchanged for a puffy white blouse, black corset, long matching skirt, and a red cape draped loosely around her shoulders.

He wouldn't admit it kind of suited her.

Hitsugaya grumbled and stacked up his papers. "I don't have a costume anyway."

"Hey! I have an idea!"

He groaned.

"You can be a wolf, and I can be Little Red!"

"No."

"Aw, come on, Shiro-chan! Please?"

Instead of saying, _Go away and leave me alone, _he said, "Where am I going to get a wolf costume anyway?" so she wouldn't get hurt feelings. See? Hitsugaya could be a nice guy. Even if he was silently calling her a stupid idiot in his head.

Momo smiled slyly and pulled something silver, heavy, and hairy from under her cloak with a _tada!_

_Stupid idiot._

"You like it?" Hinamori cried, holding it out to his face so close he almost sneezed because of the shimmery threads tickling his nose. "Captain Ukitake helped me make it! Isn't it great?"

Hitsugaya grit his teeth as she waved it emphatically in front of his face, like, _look at it, Shiro-chan! Look! Look!_

"So...you've just had this under your cloak this whole time."

"Yup."

He stared at the thing. It was just a cape with a loose hood and a pair of triangular ears all sewn together with neat white stitches. Whether it was Momo or Ukitake who made it, Hitsugaya was unsure; though he _was_ sure that putting it on would be the apex possibility of taunts from Matsumoto for the next year and numerous smiley-eyed head pats from Captain Ukitake, who- by some cosmic obligatory nonsense- insisted that "Shiro-chan"s had to stick together.

"I'm not doing it."

"Oh, _Shiro-chan_!" Hinamori pleaded. "It would mean so much to me! Captain Aizen can't go because he volunteered to take over duties at the barracks so everyone else could go, and he didn't accept my offer for help. I don't want to be the only one not drinking."

Toshirou was about to point out that A. she had lots of friends who didn't drink and B. there was no chance in Soul Society that he would put on that cape and go out in public. But her black eyes were so doleful-looking. They reminded him of all those times she'd asked for little things when they were kids; like sharing the last piece of watermelon or holding her hand because she was always so freaked out to go outside at night.

Of course he always said no. He was a _man_.

Fine: once. There was the one time when he gave her his cloak when it was raining. He liked the cold anyway, even if it did creep uncomfortably down his back.

Okay, okay: twice. How was going to eat the last slice of watermelon with her staring at him like that?

_Fine_, okay? _Three_.

That was as high as he would go.

But her eyes brought him back to comforting times: a warm home to come to even though he usually preferred the cold. Their grandma, shrunken with age but still unwaveringly kind. Putting up with Hinamori's friends who were frightened of him; and even cleaning soiled bed sheets with her at the riverbank (he called her Bed-Wetter Momo for a reason).

"Fine."

"Really?"

Hisugaya stood up, annoyed. "That's what I just said."

"You're the best, Shiro-chan!" Momo cried, thrusting the costume into his arms.

"It's Captain Hitsugaya," he grumbled, shrugging the stupid thing on. It was too warm, unbelievably itchy, and he felt so stupid-looking. Not as stupid-looking as Rangiku after half a dozen shots of vodka, but still.

"It's perfect!" Momo pulled up his hood and grinned. "Shiro-chan, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah..."

They walked out of the barracks together to the Kuchiki mansion, who was hosting the party. Why in the name of Hueco Mundo Byakuya would be willing to house a hundred noisy, drunken guests in his personal home, Toshiro didn't know. The captain probably just wanted to show off his new coy ponds. That sneaky aristocrat.

As they approached, Momo _ah_-ed at the kidou lights strung up in the courtyard and the noises of loud music and cheers. Before they could enter the arced stone entrances, however, two figures popped out and guarded the twin gates.

"Halt at once!" announced one. Soifon crossed her arms sternly over her captain's haori. She frowned at the two severely. "No costume, no entrance."

"You think I dress like this on a normal basis?" Hitsugaya responded between clenched teeth.

"Ah, Red Riding Hood and Teen Wolf?" Gin smirked, hands folded in his billowing sleeves. "How cute."

Toshirou twitched. "Teen Wolf..."

"What are Captain Soifon and Ichimaru doing out here?" asked Hinamori genially. Leave it to her to change the subject.

Soifon snorted. "Not being in there. It was a captain-mandatory event excluding Aizen and Komamura, who're in charge of security, and the Captain Commander, for obvious reasons. Out here, no stupid costumes."

Hitsugaya almost asked if he could join them.

Gin shrugged. "I like seeing what y'all came up with." He smiled that creepy doll-seam smile. "Teen Wolf is by far the best."

"Go on in," Soifon said, squinting at her associate in annoyance. "If you see anyone pour more vodka into the coy ponds, tell them Byakuya will personally rip out their throats and beat them with it."

Hinamori blinked.

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and dragged her in.

The first thing he registered was the sheer number of everything.

Dozens of pale kidou lights were strung around the walls, along the tables, and across the many sakura trees scattered around the area. Drinks and bottles were set up in a separate area- the loudest area- in which constant streams of loud laughter floated up. Numerous, perfectly circular coy ponds dotted the area further in, circled by bobbing lotus-shaped lights. A small stage rose in one corner, where Hisagi pounded strange Real World music that everybody was too drunk to care about booing at.

Hundreds of shinigami crowded the area, wearing costumes ranging from wizards to flouncy ball gowns. It seemed the entirety of the Eleventh Division was dressed as cavemen. White-clothed tables lined the walls piled with elegant displays of every kind of sweets. A few tables were dedicated wholly to Real World candies, and Hitsugaya was about to sneak away and nonchalantly grab a handful of amanatto when someone covered his eyes with cool fingers.

"Guess who~!"

Toshirou felt that twitch again.

Honestly.

"_Matsumoto..._"

"How'd you know?" She stepped back and examined him. Her white hat rested lopsidedly on her blonde hair, and the nurse's dress she sported was equipped with an unbuttoned collar, thigh-length skirt, and knee-high white leather boots. What kind of nurse she was trying to be, Hitsugaya did not want to know.

He was about to reprimand her for placing her bosom so close to his face- _again_- when she blinked at him and promptly burst into hysterical tears. He suddenly remembered what he was dressed as and crossed his arms to mask his flush.

Honestly.

"C-Captain," she wheezed, clutching her middle, "...you...look like...Teen Wolf..."

"Matsumoto-san," Hinamori greeted happily at the side-lines. "It's nice to see you."

"Hinamori-san's costume is befitting," commented Kira, stepping up and glancing at Rangiku in concern, who was now rolling on the floor in hysterics. Izuru cast an uneasy eye down his own costume. "I'm not sure what I even am. Hisagi thrust it on me before I could say I didn't want to come."

To Hitsugaya, it was pretty obvious. Fake leather everything and a Stetson.

Before he could say, "Discount cowboy," Hisagi hollered into the microphone.

"Hello! I hope we're all having a good time!"

Everyone drunk enough screamed and howled. Except for Rangiku. Who was still rolling around on the floor in hysterics.

Here, Shuuhei pulled out a vanilla-colored card and began to read in a suspiciously familiar style. "'As you know, refreshments and food are all donated by generous benefactors, the Kuchiki family," Hisagi quoted. "'This manor has also been allowed use to...you commoners...by the Kuchiki family...'" He glanced up and looked around nervously. "Uh...'If you pour more vodka into the coy ponds...I will personally rip out your throat and beat you with it.'"

Hitsugaya glanced at Soifon, lingering darkly at the entrance.

"Told you," she mouthed.

"Anyway," Shuuhei coughed, card tucked back into his pocket. "We're having various competitions related to Real World cultures and a final costume poll at the end for different categories. Please enjoy!"

"That was quite the spectacle," sighed Rangiku contentedly, out of her fit of laughter and another drink in her hands. "I'm going to bob for apples." She downed the glass and handed it to Kira, who stared at it for a second. Soon, he too wandered off to go see the spectacle arising at the Morgue Assistant Challenge, where Captain Kurotsuchi's prosthetic bodies were being dissected by recruits.

Except every once in a while, when someone cut the wrong artery, a buzzer would sound and the body would explode into chunks of fake skin, raw meat, and red paint.

"Man, this is fun!" Hinamori laughed as a new, bouncy, very stereotypically girlish song played. "Aren't you glad we came, Shiro-chan?"

Hitsugaya was about to point out that they hadn't even done anything yet, like get some _amanatto_, when Captain Ukitake marched up to them with a big grin. At least...he looked like Captain Ukitake minus the beard and weird hat.

"I like your costume, Hitsugaya-kun," he smiled. "You too, Hinamori-san."

"Thank you, Captain," Momo beamed. Then she shuffled sheepishly from foot to foot for a moment before asking, "Who are you supposed to be, Captain Ukitake?"

He was dressed in long black robes with a matching cape and satchel. His silver hair melted into a fake beard of the same color which trailed wispily down his front. A crooked dark hat rested on his head and a knobby staff in his left hand.

Ukitake beamed. "Well, let's see." He cleared his throat a few times. Then, with a comically deep voice, he announced: "YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Momo, being the uncultured light-weight she was, nodded politely.

"It doesn't suit you at all, Captain," Toshirou remarked loosely.

"Ah," Ukitake rubbed his neck. "Unohana told me that too."

"Where is the captain?" Hinamori asked excitedly. "I like seeing what all of you came up with! It's all very exciting."

The Thirteenth Squad Captain's face colored the slightest bit as he pointed to the bobbing for apples booth. A woman was dropping in more apples, long black hair trailing her waist and slinky satin dress sweeping into a puddle like spilled ink at her feet. A purple-haired girl stood politely next to her in a high-collared Elizabethan schoolgirl dress.

"Morticia and Wednesday Addams?" Hinamori asked incredulously.

"You guessed it," Ukitake nodded. "Even Tousen too."

They glanced at the usually quiet man. He stood with his lieutenant in a half-hearted attempt at a vampire costume. Hisagi himself wore a few bandages around his head and wrapped up lazily around his torso and arms. It seemed the Ninth Division officers were not too excited about the party.

"Of course Captain Kurotsuchi couldn't be bothered into a costume..."

He gestured to where he and Nemu stood watching the competitors grimace at the Fear Factor booth. Kurotsuchi hadn't bothered with anything, while Nemu wore a flapper costume with black fringe that dusted her knees and a raven-feather headband that blended with her dark hair.

"I wonder who'll win best costume," Hinamori glimmered, poking Hitsugaya in the arm.

He sighed and glanced up at the bobbing kidou lights. "Who knows."

"_RAHHHHHHHHH!_"

A strong wave of reiatsu ruffled every single hair on the silver cloak, blew Ukitake's fake beard straight into Toshirou's face, and flung back Hinamori's red hood entirely.

"Well, that's something exciting," Jushirou whistled as the gale died down. Suddenly, the crowd around the Morgue Assistant Challenge roared.

"It seems Captain Zaraki has won," the captain managed to yell over the din.

And so he had. The entire courtyard erupted in cheers as Kenpachi lifted his hand, a still-beating prosthetic heart clutched in it. He grinned, and Yachiru's head peeked over his shoulder. Her tiny fist was pumping in the air.

Captain Ukitake made a sheepish face and gestured for Momo to drape her red hood back on. "Captain Kurotsuchi designed the Morgue Assistant bodies like bombs," Jushirou explained, adjusting his own hat securely on his head. "Cut the right veins and arteries to win- but he reasoned to us that this was Halloween, a holiday for festivities and 'tricks or treats,' and so-"

_BANG!_

The rest of his sentence was cut off as the noise like a gunshot went off. Something nasty and wet splattered over Hitsugaya's face; he screwed his eyes shut lest it get into his eyes. It smelled like wet cement. When finally the raining stopped, he made an annoyed face and shook the gunk off his face. Pale, fleshy dough splattered onto the ground. Disgusting. Kurotsuchi was a sick man.

Around him, Ukitake, prepared, had taken most of the blow to him and Hinamori with a bakudou spell, the transparent surface splattered with oatmeal-like substance. Everywhere around, people groaned, wiping at their soiled costumes. Kenpachi himself was splattered completely with the stuff...and he gave a maniacal laugh, flapping around the deflated heart. Yachiru popped up; she was too dowsed in gunk and joined in jolly laughter.

Miraculously, the speakers still worked despite the mess over them; if anything, they provided a dramatic vibrating bass to the music.

"Byakuya must be having a fit," Toshirou grumbled, shaking off his disgusting silver coat. Luckily it had taken the grunt of the blow; his captain's haori had remained spotless underneath. Good thing too. Captain Commander made such a big fuss about "the honorable captain's haori."

"Ah, Shiro-chan, it's in your hair!" Hinamori giggled, brushing out a thick clump. Then, with a moment of hesitation, she smudged it all over his face.

"_Momo!_" Hitsugaya fumed, rubbing the stuff off- it smelled awful! What was this? He collected it off his face and gathered most of it off his robe. Hinamori was still giggling...he stared at the large ball of gunk in his fingers.

So...tempting...

He was a _man_.

"Here, Hinamori- catch." Toshirou tossed it to her, and being the light-weight she was, Momo automatically reached out to catch it. And being the light-weight she was, she missed. It splattered all over her hands and dripping to the ground, sticking to her shoes and hem of the red skirt.

"Not fair, Shiro-chan!" Momo cried, though laughing when a chunk of the dough fell off of his face. She flung another piece at his head- Hitsugaya ducked, and it landed against something- or someone else. Hinamori turned white.

Soifon's face was utterly, utterly calm as she peered at the blob stuck like plaster to her perfectly neat obi.

It seemed the whole party grew silent.

"_Excrement fight!_" Ikkaku hollered.

And a dozen things happened at once- Toshirou automatically lifted his silver cloak; Soifon socked Captain Ukitake in the chest with the sludge; Hinamori tripped and accidently smeared paste all over Matsumoto, who had stumbled over there; Rangiku knocked Kira over with a sizable amount gathered from her hair; a recruit from the Eleventh Division announced bloody war upon her other tribal-dressed members, and the world exploded in chaos, yelling, and prosthetic flesh cooked up by the Twelfth Division.

This was too much. Hitsugaya spotted Momo through the flying muck cowering under her arms. He rolled his eyes, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down.

Her eyes were wide. "Shiro-chan?"

"It's Captain Hitsugaya," he told her over the screams and laughter. "Besides, you have crap all over your face, idiot."

She busily scrubbed it off while Toshirou shuffled to let most of the flying goo hit his back instead of pepper her already messed-up face. Not to be cute and protective or anything. Momo would burst into tears or something if it hit her, decided Hitsugaya grumpily as goo wads thumped against the silver costume. Besides, it was no big deal to him. He never liked this cloak anyway.

"Order! Order!" It seemed the speakers had finally been clogged with pasty sludge- Captain Tousen's voice barely cracked through the expensive stereo system.

Slowly, reluctantly, shinigami dropped their artillery with loud splatters.

"Thank you. Now, I would like to conclude that the Kuchiki courtyard will be left spotless in return for this induced mess," the captain remarked almost sourly. "Also, we _had_ the costume party, but due to the number of ineligible members in the audience..." Tousen peered out with unseeing eyes as if he could just smell the amount of lab-grown excrement coating everyone's costumes, shoes, hair, and everything in between.

"...is there any eligible member still left out there?"

Everyone looked around, including Hitsugaya, who was wondering what lucky idiot ducked out of the fire in time...when he backed away, staring at a disgruntled but mostly-clean Hinamori still crouched on the ground.

"Go on, Momo," Toshirou jerked his head in the stage direction.

Her eyes widened and her hood fell back like in surprise. Hinamori's lips made a little 'o.'

"Well go on, idiot," Hitsugaya ordered gruffly when she didn't move. "You won."

He was about to add, _by default_, but the look on her face was so priceless, Hitsugaya didn't want to do it.

Not that he _couldn't_.

He was a _man_.

Matsumoto and Ukitake blinked, looked at them, and grinned.

With a final push, Momo made her way along the kidou lights, stopping at the stage edge.

"Excuse me!" she called to Hisagi, who took one look at her unstained costume and helped her onstage.

"Our winner is lieutenant Hinamori!" Tousen announced, taking her hand.

The crowd cheered- any injustice at having their costumes destroyed was gone in the sludge flinging and shots of vodka. Hitsugaya folded his arms, rolled his eyes, and assumed his normal stance against a clean section of the wall.

Honestly.

They placed a large basket of candy as a prize in her arms, a plastic crown on her head, and played a slow song that was supposed to sound graceful, except for the crackles and pops that escaped every once in a while from the clogged speakers.

Abruptly Matsumoto grabbed some poor guys arm and made them dance. Toshirou spotted Unohana wave to Captain Ukitake. Captain Kyouraku, dressed as a pirate, slung his arms around a very disgruntled Nanao.

Soon the courtyard was filled with dancers, swaying with the music and swells of laughter, no one caring about the sludge all around them or the cracking of the microphones. The kidou lights faded, bathing everything in dull light- the circular coy ponds shone with the moon. Even Soifon had joined to lean against the wall, making disgusted faces at the crowd, but her face softening just the slightest as Momo grinned and waved at her, cheap tiara already out-of-place and lopsided under her red hood.

Hitsugaya snorted.

Honestly.

She had put down her basket and Hisagi spun her around a few times onstage.

Toshirou made his way back to the barracks- the paperwork was waiting for him to file.

Gin paid him no mind; he was busy staring at Matsumoto laugh (it was probably because she was drunk and looked like a real idiot, but it was Gin, so who knew). The night was crisp and fresh-feeling: his favorite kind of temperature.

The young captain had discarded the messy wolf cloak outside and folded his finished papers into a neat pile when there was a knock on the office door.

"Shiro-chan?" Momo implored, peeking her head in. She still had that stupid plastic ornament in her hair, basket of prizes in her hands, and lopsided grin on her face. "I was wondering where you went! You missed the best thing; Captain Kuchiki made entrance, took one look at the mess, and made us all clean up!"

He straightened the paperwork into their respective files. "I fail to see how that's the best thing."

"No one complained! It was fun," Hinamori grinned, dark eyes disappearing for a second into her eyelashes.

"Hmph."

"But I thought because Shiro-chan was here alone, I would keep you company!"

"No one asked you."

"Shiro-chan!" Momo frowned good-naturedly. "I brought amanatto. See," she tilted the basket over his desk and wrapped-up boxes spilled all across of it. "Amanatto!"

Hinamori opened a box, took a handful for herself and collapsed comfortably onto a chair. She purposefully looked over her shoulder as he took some too.

"Uh...congrats. On winning the thing." He pointed uninterestedly at her victory crown. "The costume contest."

"By default," she corrected him. Then she grew all wide-eyed. "I have to get back; I promised Captain Aizen I would take the late shift tonight!" Momo bunched up her dark skirts and hustled away.

"What about all this stuff?"

"Keep it!" she called.

With a final wave, Hinamori departed, leaving wet paste footprints on his carpet and a vivid imprint of red behind the door.

Hitsugaya peered at the mess of boxes still left cluttered on his desk.

_Amanatto. _

Did she think he'd finish it all by himself? Might as well share it with her, he thought irritably. Might as well open them and find her tomorrow. Maybe go for a walk like they used to. Maybe they could just talk like they used to.

Anyway, how was he supposed to take all this? Momo would start crying or something.

Bed-Wetter Momo.

Honestly.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that!**

**And a weekly joke for the road:**

_**What happens when a chile pepper gets pissed off at you?**_

_**He gets **_**'jalapeno' _face!_**

**p.s. It was supposed to be funny.**

**Please review! :D**


	2. Just Don't Cry

**So, a slight change of key from earlier. I wasn't sure where this came from...probably from increased exposure to sad-girl Indie music...?**

**Maybe weird stuff happened this week...**

**Lesson one: trust no one. I'm serious. Turns out, people don't like you, and some people don't like you for NO REASON and don't even tell you...they just gossip until everyone's drowning in self-pity. **

**Lesson two: I'm very passive-aggressive. **

**But onto the story...**

* * *

2. Sometimes Letting Someone Go Because You Love Them is Just Called Losing Them

Matsumoto Rangiku and Ichimaru Gin

* * *

"Where are you going, Gin?"

Ichimaru turned in surprise.

He had been careful to take the regular precautions- adjusted his thin mats to seem slept in, checked to see Matsumoto was sleeping, covered their dinghy shelter with brush, reburied the dinner coals, checked to see Matsumoto was sleeping, put on his folded shinigami robes outside because of how they rustled, checked to see Matsumoto was sleeping, adjusted his reiatsu levels to slip away silently so as not to startle her, checked to see Matsumoto was sleeping.

Despite precautions, Matsumoto was not sleeping.

She'd either been woken by the nonexistent noise or had become adept at sensing his presence come and go. She was getting better- he'd have to be more careful next time.

"Go back to sleep," Ichimaru told her nonchalantly, trying as casually as he could to roll up the long sleeves. "I'm going out."

"Where, Gin?"

Despite her claimed strangeness of his name, she liked to say it a lot.

"Just out," he told her, frowning as she shivered in her thin shift. She needed a new dress. He made a mental note of that.

Rangiku blinked any remaining tiredness from her eyes and stumbled outside in bare feet. Dirt mingled with sprinkles of the billowing snow, and Ichimaru watched with calculated eyes as she stifled a shiver. Her blond hair had grown out after her last birthday- it'd been almost two years already since he met her, Gin realized. Her hair was longer, curlier, specked with dirt and dust but still sprightly along with her round cyan eyes. Her dress barely swept her knees now, help together with ripping stitches around her sleeves and collar. He had grown increasingly protective of her on the rare occasions they went into town; Rangiku was a constant point of interest, especially around men.

She was growing and changing.

They both were.

For example, she was waking up easier, or at least learning his habits. It was something he should have foreseen; they grew up together, after all. That made Gin feel uncomfortable though. She didn't understand him. She _couldn't_; it was unnatural. No one watched a snake move in the grass and thought, _I wonder where it's going. _They thought, _What a nasty creature_, or moved away in fright and disgust.

But Matsumoto hadn't ever seemed frightened or disgusted.

Even after all this time, it was disconcerting.

"Can I come? Sometimes I..." Rangiku stopped and blinked.

"Just go back to sleep," he told her.

He knew she was going to talk about her nightmares. Did she really think he didn't notice the scratches on her face from clawing herself? Or didn't feel her reiatsu spiking? Or realize she would shake on the mat even when he covered her with his own sheet?

She needed more covers. He made a mental note of that too.

"I just want to come, Gin!" Matsumoto huffed, for a second reminding him of the child he'd lived with for years. "Sometimes I...don't want to be left behind."

"Not left behind," Ichimaru corrected her. "Just staying here until I come back."

"Well, what if you don't come back?" she blurted. He could tell by the way she said it that it was a thought bubbling at the back of her throat for a while now. And in all honesty, it was something that festered in his too...

"I'll come back," he told her confidently, putting on a lopsided grin. "Don't look so sad, Rangiku. It doesn't fit on your pretty face."

"Pretty my butt," she snorted, relaxing, but he knew that nothing he could say would erase that movement of doubt in her eyes. "Just..." Matsumoto crossed her arms and backed up into the doorway. "Just...take care, okay, Gin?"

"Sure, Rangiku."

_Just don't cry._

"Sure."

* * *

When things started changing, Matsumoto didn't know.

It was great as a shinigami- there weren't any more scraggly sheets or torn dresses. She had the time to joke and play, time to prosper and drink. She could get caught up in things like that; they were so easy to fall into after leading a childhood full of hunger and disaster.

Gin graduated years before her, and it was so easy to pretend she didn't know him. It was like something unsaid; after so long while she worked so hard at the academy (hah) and he made his way up the Fifth Division, something between them eroded away, though there was still those years of togetherness that could never really go.

A part of her, secretly, had always just wanted to start over. And Rangiku liked this new feeling of openness- it was refreshing, for a change: to breathe clearly and laugh and dance without worrying about rattling past chains.

By her graduation, he was a lieutenant. By her vice-captainship, he was a captain. He had always liked to stay one step ahead of her.

That was just another part of his character that she had grown to accept. A younger Matsumoto had learned so much about Gin...but all that meant so little. He was like a shadow- constantly shifting, constantly changing, always just a breath away from being touched.

He was steadfast and protective, but acted nonchalant and sarcastic most of the time. Ichimaru was weird around other people- weird around her, too, but it was easier because they grew up together.

_Grew up together._

Byakuya and Hisana grew up together.

Kaein and Miyako grew up together.

Gin and Matumoto grew up together.

It was easier to play it out like a movie.

_From the depths of a murky past, they arise. They conquer victories together. They conquer death together. They face countless battles together. They rise in victories together. They save lives together. They grow to love one another. _

They grew up together.

It wasn't such a drama in real life, though. Other shinigami had similar stories, but many of their companions hadn't even survived the trip.

Was it worse to know someone and then have them gone? Or worse to know someone still there but might as well not be?

It was all very confusing; luckily, Matsumoto didn't have much time to think about it. Between her lieutenant duties (hah) and all the things she loved, thinking about old bruises wasn't something on her to-do list.

Sometimes, though, lying awake at night, she wished it was.

Remembering Gin. Remembering what it felt like to have someone there when she fell...

...Remembering how every time she did, she was confident he would catch her...

...but there was always that _doubt_ that one day, he wouldn't be there anymore...

...she'd wake up, and he'd be abruptly gone...

That doubt had been there always, but increasingly, it was widening.

When it started changing, she didn't know.

Once upon a time, Rangiku could trace a line from one happy day with him to the next...and find nothing changing. They ran out of days; that was the simple truth. Maybe, given time, she could have loved him. Learned him. Broken down walls- his and her own.

That line was quickly fading though- she hadn't had the time to love or learn him- it was so easy to just forget. Only sometimes when she closed her eyes would she feel the familiar ache when she realized his reiatsu was not next to hers anymore. And later, much, much later, when she placed their first and last days together did she realize exactly how much had fallen between the two.

All that hung between them now were burning bridges.

Who burned them first, Matsumoto didn't know- but they were burning, burning, and she couldn't help but feel it was her fault.

* * *

Childhood friends.

Childhood friends.

_Childhood friends._

Gin never understood what that meant.

Fair, he didn't usually have the time to think about things like that; he'd gotten into some deep crap in a short time in case someone forgot, what with Aizen's newfound excitement in the explosion of White, and the creepy impatience of Tousen.

But sometimes, he wondered.

Especially when Rangiku came in her captain's place at a meeting only two days after his disappearance, eyes red and shiny. Especially when his reiatsu was nowhere to be sensed in Soul Society, the Real World, and even the darkness of the Garganta. Especially when she leaned hard against the railing where she watched the honoring death ceremony. Especially when she cried and he turned away because she didn't want to look at him.

_Just don't cry. _

_ Childhood friends._

What did that mean when he felt so strongly about something like this? Growing up together didn't explain the extents he would go to make her happy. Sometimes, he wondered how quickly things were turning sour; Tousen was becoming more diligent in his work at new Whites, Aizen was planning the execution of the Central 46, he himself was doing his best to make friends (hah).

It was all spinning so quickly- sometimes, Ichimaru was worried he couldn't stop it when the time came.

_Just don't cry_.

And then he did know he could. Somewhere, he knew they could go deep into the Garganta and he would do it- kill Aizen. No matter how strong or secretive or manipulative the enemy was, he would do it. He would kill them. Gladly endure the distrustful eyes. Gladly face the distance between them.

Gladly die.

As long as she didn't cry.

* * *

_As long as he didn't die._

_"Gin!" _

It was her voice.

It floated like snow that billowed around her torn dresses and sprightly hair when they were children.

_"Gin!"_

He saw her through the daze. Numbness. Death. And he knew- he _knew _he was going to die. It was so clear it was startling...but then again, it wasn't. It was all just numb.

And a name, cried out so often, that he almost remembered...

* * *

Time.

More time.

Another second, another moment- if Rangiku could go back to just one millisecond she screwed up, things would've been so different. Studying harder one night to be in his class. Working harder to be with him. Focusing more so she could graduate with him. Asking to talk with him. Leaning on his shoulder again. Finding the strength to tell him he was everything.

She had had years- _years_- and she hadn't done anything. Years without anymore links to him, pretending nothing happened, pretending he wasn't anything more than just another face. Years for those bridges to burn and crumble.

Why didn't she say anything?

Words could've prevented this. She could've prevented this.

_I could've prevented this_.

_Somehow...somehow I could have._

Those words and those tears flooded her whole body, but she couldn't scream anything besides his name- over and over again- that strange name like his hair and his eyes. Strange like that white jacket. Like the blood pooling into cracks of shattered concrete. Strange like her hand, reaching out for him.

Time.

More time.

With more time...

...could this have ended differently?

Things stopped- the trickle of blood on his face reminded her so much of those times she had always tried to hide and run from. Now, she would call them "happy times" in a blink. Those times when she wasn't afraid of him anymore. Just knowing that child...no, not a child; he had never had the chance to be a child. He gave up so much for her. He grew up so much for her. And when she thought the distance was too far to reach, he was reaching for her from the other side.

_Gin and Matsumoto grew up together._

_He saved her, protected her, provided for her. They faced diversity together, but eventually she drifted, drawn in by the prospects of a new life. She made it so easy to forget- to just start over and reclaim the life of luxury she never really had. She looked for so many ways to run away. But he never gave up on her. _

They grew up together.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. And by "enjoyed" I mean felt emotion. **

**I've been helping my friend cut a dramatic piece as a monologue, and I have read a section from _Voices from Chernobyl _about fifty-million times. Nah. Just about twelve-million.**

**And, being too depressed to leave you with a joke for the road, take this picture of a rabbit.**

**( )_( )**

**(='.'=)**

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_**Review to Reviews**_

** EYCA: Thank you for that! I totally didn't mind reading your comments twice in my reviews! :D **

**And yes...what's Ash's favorite pie flavor? Pika-n pie. Hah.**

** Max: Thanks :D In real life, I'm told I have a pretty sarcastic sense of humor...it's hard to communicate that over writing, but it's nice that it made you smile! **


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